Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book left beside the window for too long. Moisture has a way of doing that. I lingered for more time than was needed, separating the pages one by one, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes whose origins have become blurred over time. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I remember once asking someone about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They talk about consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the feeling stuck. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. more info Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Letting misunderstandings stand. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not everything has to be useful. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.